


Do You Care?

by BlackRoses137



Category: Camp Camp
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Depression, F/M, Self-Harm, They’re all aged up to like 14 btw, dadvid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRoses137/pseuds/BlackRoses137
Summary: It’s the last day of camp, and everyone’s been picked up.That is, except Max.





	1. The Last Day Of Camp

Finally, I was leaving this fucking place. This shitty camp that I’d sworn would be the death of me. I felt relieved. As usual, I was being an absolute dick to those around me. Neil and Nikki are used to it, they’re fine. David is used to it too, but it ends up affecting him just a little more. 

Not that I give a shit. 

So on this last day, I stood outside the broken Camp Campbell sign with Neil and Nikki, waiting for our parents to come pick us up. We were talking a bit, exchanging numbers as we stood there. When Neil’s dad came to pick him up, I felt...sad to see my friend go. What? No. Fuck that. 

I still had Nikki, at least for a few more minutes. Soon enough though, her mom arrived as well. 

“Promise to call, Max?” She has that wide smile of hers on her face, with a hint of hopefulness. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll call you, Nikki.”

She smiled even wider, waved once more, got in her car, and sped off. I was alone now. I knew I would be the last one left. Everyone else was gone, too. Space Kid, Nurf, Nerris, Harrison, Preston, Ered, and the rest were all gone. 

With a sigh, I sat down on the ground. There was still daylight, but you could clearly see the soft tendrils of pink and orange creeping up on the cyan sky. I watched the golden sun set hours later, and was soon engulfed in the night.

I heard footsteps behind me, and saw David there. 

“Gee, they...still haven’t come...have they?” 

I shook my head and I could feel tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, but quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of my hoodie. David sat down beside me on the dirt, and said, “I’ll stay here with you ‘til they get here, i-if you want.” 

“Whatever the fuck you wanna do, David.”

I heard the intake of breath that would normally indicate the “language!” from David but it was followed by silence. Just a sigh. David stayed there with me, at least for about an hour and a half more. I could hear the crickets chirping as David got up suddenly, and assured me he would be right back as he walked off. 

And there I sat, near dozing off when I heard David calling someone, and at that moment is when my body decided to make me fall asleep. 

 

 

When I woke up, I looked around at the car I was in. David’s. Fuck me. What the hell am I doing here, of all places? Fuck. 

“David? What the hell? Where are my parents?” 

“Oh, you’re awake! That’s great, Max. See, well, your parents-er, couldn’t make it to pick you up. So, instead, I’ll be dropping you off.” 

“David, what the fuck.” 

“Language.”

I slumped back into my seat, only slightly panicking. Because fuck it. It’s all gone to shit anyways. 

Guess I’ll have to see how my parents react when David drops me off...


	2. Her

It was late at night when David got to my house. I was silently pleading that it wouldn’t be my father who opened the door. Not praying, of course. I stopped believing in a god long ago. 

Mercifully, it was my mother who opened the door. She had that look of disinterest and carelessness on her face. That is, until she saw David with me. Instantly, her entire demeanor changed. She straightened herself out and smiled brightly. 

“Why, hello there! I-er, see you have my son with you.” 

She isn’t all that great at social interaction. She tries though.

I looked up at David. He seemed his normal cheery self. What a gullible fucking idiot.

He always did want to see the best in everyone. 

He quickly responded to my mother with his happy tone. 

“Yes! My name is David, it’s so nice to meet you!” He held out his hand for my mom to shake. 

She took it and shook it, then swiftly let go. She turned to me, seemingly unsure of what to do now. She made up her mind fairly quickly. My mom ushered David in, nearly shutting the door before I sped into the house. 

I did not want to leave David alone with my mother. That...might not end well.   
See, my mother gets defensive easily. When anyone even tries to bring up the topic of her home life, she will fly in a rage instantaneously. It would be awe-inspiring, how furious she gets so easily.   
If it weren’t so fucking terrifying. 

So here we were, all sitting in the living room, the TV playing just quietly enough for me to not be able to understand what they were saying. I cursed that thing. I needed a distraction to keep myself from losing my fucking mind in this unbearable silence. And I sure as hell was not going to speak up. Thankfully, David cleared his throat and decided to talk. 

“So, ma’am, I brought Max here because...um, well, you didn’t come to pick him up, so I figured I should bring him...for you...”

As David said this, he seemed to be getting increasingly uncomfortable under my mother’s glare. One...Two-

“Are you trying to suggest that I don’t care enough about my child?” She pulled my towards her by my hair. Ow. “Because if you are, I will have you know I love my son more than anything.”

It was such a ridiculously hilarious notion that my mother cared about me, of all people. This fact was accentuated by the fact that she didn’t even seem to know how to hug me. She kind of...kept my at arm’s length with that furious scowl on her face. I almost laughed. I was fucked, right? 

David quickly rushed to correct his error. 

“No, of course not, ma’am! I-I’m very sorry if you took it that way, i was just trying to explain myself, I’m so sorry, ma’am! I-in fact, I think it’s better if I just e-excuse myself. I apologize again, miss. I’ll be going now. I’m very sorry.”

He turned to me. 

“Be safe, Max. I’ll see you some other time.” 

He then rushed out of the house, and the moment the door closed, my mother pushed me away from her, stood up, and dusted herself off. 

“What a rude man. Max, clean the dishes and go to bed. I don’t want to see you again until tomorrow.”

I nodded and went to clean the plates. 

When I finished that task, I went to my room and changed. I grabbed Mr. Honeynuts and held him close to my chest. I got under the blue covers, slightly dusty from lack of use. I felt the tears pricking my eyes. 

I was alone, and so I let the overwhelming feeling of worthlessness and sadness wash over me, the sobs racking my tiny body. I sobbed and sobbed in silence. I clutched Mr. Honeynuts closer to my chest as tears flowed down my face and onto my pillow. He was my lifeline. He keeps me anchored. 

He’s the only thing that makes me feel safe anymore.


	3. Them

When I woke up, it was to a tear-stained pillow and bits of Mr. Honeynut’s fur underneath my fingernails from how much I had been digging my nails into him through the night. I rolled onto my side in the bed, facing the window. It was raining. 

I’d always liked the rain. It made me calm, and helped me sleep. I could listen to it for hours and hours. 

Unfortunately, my little moment of bliss was over abruptly. There was an aggressive pounding on my door all of a sudden, and I sat up in bed. 

“Are you awake yet, you little fucking piece of shit?!”

I faked being asleep, a choice I came to regret nearly immediately, as my father threw my door open, grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, and tossed me into the hallway. He was absolutely livid for no fucking reason whatsoever. 

I can’t fucking believe this is a normal morning for me. 

My father continued,  
“What the hell’re you doin’ , thinking you can sleep late?! You have shit to do, so fucking get to it!”

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir.”

He stalked off, grumbling. I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief as I entered my room again. I made my bed, placing Mr. Honeynuts gently on my pillows. I got to cleaning the house, something I’ve done hundreds of times before. 

Before I went to camp, it was a daily thing. I think that’s the only thing my parents missed about my leaving. Their personal slave could no longer work.

I trudged into the living room, clearing it of beer bottles, empty wine glasses, and food that had made its way onto the floor.

Did I mention my parents are alcoholics?  
I think not. 

I threw those out, then cleaned the kitchen, the bathrooms, my room. All of the rooms in our house. Except their bedroom. 

I wasn’t allowed in there. I always saw it as a kind of dungeon, the place the ferocious dragons slept. I never wanted to go there either. I just pretended it didn’t exist. 

When I was done, I practically collapsed onto my bed. Are my idiot parents really incapable of fucking tidying up the house a little bit once in a while? 

Even when I cleaned the house, I often got chastised for it. They could find a non-existent spot of dust somewhere and yell at me for it. My mom was worse when it came to that. But honestly, my father is the absolute worst human being I’ve ever known. 

I never really talk to him. He occasionally yells at me to get him a beer or to clean up his fucking messes. He mostly pretended I didn’t exist. It’s fine, I guess. At least they don’t beat me all that bad. I’ll set slapped occasionally, sometimes I’ll get a bruise, but no broken bones or anything like that. I guess I should consider myself lucky. 

There’s always someone who has it worse. 

As I sat there, on my bed, I looked out my window. I had a phone, but I didn’t feel like using it. Also, allow me to say something. I don’t fucking read. It’s stupid. Like, what the hell, you expect me to waste my time reading? What point is there to it? It’s bullshit.

So I just sat there for who knows how long. My parents didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. They usually ignore me, when possible. I’m just a burden on them, I bet they wish they’d never had me. It would better if I died- oh god not again. 

I hadn’t had thoughts like these since the beginning of summer. Shit. No no no stop. 

But they didn’t. The feelings of worthlessness and sorrow weighed on me like stones. I wrapped my arms around myself, breathing heavily. Suddenly, I shot my hand out and grabbed a small tin box I had in my drawer. I grabbed the small blade in it, from a pencil sharpener. I had left here, when I left for camp. 

In the hopes of never doing it again. 

Evidently, that didn’t work. But I couldn’t get myself to get rid of it. It was my coping mechanism. I know it’s not healthy, but fuck you. 

I pressed it to my thighs. I never touch my arms or wrists. I can’t risk getting caught, and no one notices scars on your legs. They only look on your arms. 

Tiny droplets of blood bloomed from the incision, and as I pressed harder, they grew and dripped down my leg. And with them fell away those feelings I hate so much. I feel weak when I feel like that. I can’t let them get to me like that. 

After the first cut, I made several more, the thin red strips spreading across my thighs. I ran my fingers along the older scars, then got up and cleaned up the blood. 

When I was done, I put the blade in the box again, hiding it in my drawer. I don’t know why I bothered. It’s not like my parent would care much, or even look in the first place. 

They’ve never cared, and they never will.

**Author's Note:**

> So I realize this is probably pretty shitty, but it’s my first fan fiction. Bear with me.


End file.
